


You promised you'd write!

by MotherRameses



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherRameses/pseuds/MotherRameses
Summary: After a job gets busted by Overwatch, we see Ashe's dramatic escape and McCree's desperate bargain for her freedom.A fic hoping the flesh out the "You promised you'd write!" line.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanna know why Ashe doesn't immediately shoot him when he shows up in the Reunion short, with the whole "don't work for the law" rule.
> 
> Some relationshippy stuff, but that’s not what’s driving the fic.

A shadow covering the sun. The hum of a massive aircraft. BOB's hulking form vaulting over the payload to her side, eyes wide with alarm, a flash, then darkness.

\---

"Brilliant. I told you to keep it clean, my samples were due to mature today. Your inability to do _your_ job is interfering with  _mine_ , again."

"Cut the crap doc. Trust me, I don't wanna see you either." A sweaty, irate Gabriel Reyes bristled past Moira O'Deorain and through the doors to the Blackwatch medical ward, ushering in his team. Seven agents guided in four gurneys, each with an unconscious body handcuffed to it. Moira entered behind them, silently triaging the bodies best she could while her team pulled them into separate medical cubicles. Burns, shrapnel, blunt force trauma, bullets. The calling cards of a Blackwatch operation.

"Were you at least successful? I thought Deadlock was a massive organization?" She shrugged off her lab coat and pulled a set of scrubs off a cart, tugging them over her quickly while eyeing her commander reproachfully. "Surely these four were not the entirety?"  

Gabriel glared at her, then turned to an open cubical. "I'll debrief you while you pull these bullets out of my shoulder." He tugged off his black turtleneck and dropped it on the floor behind him, disappearing behind the privacy curtain. Moira scowled, kicking it out of her way while she followed. The operation clearly went poorly, for him to be intentionally pushing her buttons this much. 

\---

<B.O.B system failure, attempting recovery>

<B.O.B system failure, attempting recovery>

<B.O.B system failure, attempting recovery>

<B.O.B system failure, attempting->

<B.O.B system online, damage assessment>

<weapons systems, no response>

<mobility servos, no response>

<body core housing, no response>

<body core damage, no response>

<mind core housing, moderate damage>

<mind core housing external temperature, 106.3f, acceptable> 

<mind core damage, minimal>

<mind core internal temperature, 128.9f, acceptable>

<mind core, online>

\---

"... like he got the least of it..."

"... vitals stable, o2 indicative..."

"... bruising, probable concussion..."

Jesse McCree heard bits of the talk around him, but comprehended none of it. In fact, he rather resented it right now, could they just shut up and let a fella sleep? Fuckin' house rules still applied even if you weren't in the damn house. He lay quiet for another moment, but decided he'd give these idiots what's comin'.

"Will ya'll shut the FUCK UP." He hollered and opened his eyes, as a hush fell over the area. He glared at the offenders next to his bed, then promptly remember the hell he was in. 

"Fuck ya'll! Fuckin-!" He vainly thrashed his arms and legs, cuffs preventing any blows from reaching the nurses around him. "Fuckin' untie me or I swear to god, where's my god damn gun-"

"Jesse!" Ashe's voice cut through his tirade. "Shut the fuck up and let these people fix your stupid ass up. Don't you say another word."

He twisted his head around, looking for the sound of her voice, seeing nothing but the white curtains around him. "Ashe? Ashe! What-"

"Shut. Up. Your mouth is a liability 'round these parts, I swear..." she trailed off into unintelligible muttering. He looked around once more, then slumped back onto his pillow. His head ached, and he didn't know where he was, or where Ashe was, and he was pissed, but he listened to his boss. 

The nurses around him glanced at each other, then looked at him questioningly. He scowled and closed his eyes, and they returned to their work of disinfecting his cuts and scrapes. 

Gabriel sat straight for another moment, then when it seemed clear the commotion was over, laid back on his side so Moira could continue her grisly work of opening his wounds to search for the offending pieces of metal. She let him speak first. 

"That woman, Ashe, is one of the ring leaders. That idiot she was telling to can it is her deputy, Jesse McCree. We've been tracking her and two others. All of them were supposed to be on this job, but unless we get some positive idents from the corpses, we only got her. Our intel was bad, we came loaded up for a massive sting, guns blazing, and only busted up a one and done. Jack is gonna have my ass about it."

Moira hummed, and dropped a bullet into the tray next to her. 

"Blew the payload and half her team to pieces. The only reason she survived is because she had an omnic bodyguard take the blast for her. When we came in to take in the survivors, loud mouth over there popped up from behind a rock and shot me. The kid's a good shot, the second I saw him, I ghosted - "

"Incorporeal."

"Whatever, but he couldn't have had more than a second and got 4 bullets in me. The look on his face when I showed up next to him and decked his ass was wonderful." Gabriel grinned at the memory, a look that made his countenance appear savage.

"Did you experience any issues with your enhancements?" Moira dropped the last bullet into the tray as the wound stitched closed before her eyes. 

"No, unless you count healing so quickly the lead stays inside you as a downside."

"Hmm. I do. While unlikely, there could still be the possibility of infection. I will look into it." She stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the waste bin. "Remember to... debrief the prisoners regarding your materialization. I can't imagine Jack wanting to have to run more damage control than needed, if word got out about you."

"Yeah yeah, I know. Pretty sure the kid was the only one, but I'll have the rest scrubbed down." Gabe sat up and adjusted his undershirt, then sighed heavily. "What's got me fucked up is that they're just kids, all of them. Teenagers, early twenties." He scratched at the stubble on his neck. "Run aways and fuck ups and orphans and..." He trailed off. 

Moira looked up from her tablet at him. "Don't tell me you've gone soft."

"No," he growled. "I don't mind bringing the heat when I know they deserve it. But this bunch... They're criminals, for sure, but damn good ones, and imagine if we had got to them before they got into this shit. I wouldn't have had to fuckin' execute a bunch of teenagers over bad fuckin' intel." 

Moira stood up and turned to leave, placing a hand on Gabe's newly healed shoulder. "You're a good commander, Gabe." she spoke softly, seeing the unspoken stress in his features. When viewed as he described it, the job did go very, very badly. "When a mistake is made, all effort must be given into repairing it. But we must also remember when to accept fault for our actions." He felt her hand leave his shoulder and slowly turned her words over in his troubled mind. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW sexual assault. I really debated plotting it this way, but just... I write to get problems out of my head and deal with it and I feel like the resolution (which we will see the full breadth of in the next chapter) is cathartic? 
> 
> This isn't beta'd, and I'm finding I'm struggling with pacing. Hit me with constructive criticism!

BOB's optics activated, lids quickly angling to provide optimal light for a survey of his surroundings. 

They were bleak.

Ripper, Travis, Big Hoss, and Laila lay around him. Rather, what was left of them did, bio-markers identifying the bits of their flesh scattered around the sunny roadside. BOB widened his apertures, and caught sight of Kaila, blessedly whole but profoundly dead, a few meters behind what had been Laila. He felt a pang of grief for them, and for Shaila, who was not showing up in his scans. That meant she had been probably been taken, was probably alive, and definitely without her sisters for the first time in her life. Another quick overview showed that Bones was also missing, as were Jesse and Ashe.

Ashe. 

BOB activated his pinging system, one of a few of his original features left from his time as a servant in the Caledonia household. He was tasked with caring for Ashe once her parents grew tired of their child, raising her since she was a toddler. Bright, beautiful, and enterprising was his young charge, often running away from an empty household that could not entertain her grand ideas. Her frustrated father has given BOB a way to track his wayward daughter, a way to always find her and keep her safe, much to his daughter's frustration. They had turned that intrusive tool into one of their greatest assets, and he used it now. 

He waited for her to ping back, the automated response that would happen even if she were dead, hoping for a reply, but knowing it was unlikely. That knowledge didn't damped his frustration at the radio silence. He tried again, and again.

Nothing. She was out of range. She had to be at least halfway across the country for there to be total silence. 

_BOB, do something!_

Well, he certainly was trying. With Ashe gone, everyone around him dead, and most of his body across the road, his options were limited. But he was not helpless. 

\---

Ashe's eyes opened, squinting at the harsh light, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. 

Then came pain. 

A stunning, crippling burning sensation radiated from her left side. Her breath caught in her chest, leaving her unable to cry out. A guttural moan escaped her, and suddenly she was surrounded by people in black scrubs, bustling over her shaking form. She tried to curl in on herself, to get away from the fire, but restraints stopped her and bit into her flesh. 

"Carney, get those meds in her before she send herself into shock!"

"Got it, got it, pushing now..." A man appeared at her right side and inserted a needle into an IV in her trembling hand, and a few moments later the sensation lessened. Ashe closed her eyes and willed her body to still as she felt the nurses cut her blouse and trousers off.

"Extensive burns on her left side, she'll need grafts."

"I dunno if she has enough skin left for grafts, and considering who she is, Reyes isn't gonna just let us keep her while we grow 'em. Hell, he probably doesn't care what we do with her, long as she's still kickin'."

"We'll deal with that as it comes, for now just finish getting her stable."

The first nurse left, and the other, Carney, began irrigating and bandaging her wounds. Ashe lay silently for a few moments, then heard Jesse's shouts. 

 _I swear, if I can deal with my bullshit silently, he can too._ She shouted across the ward for him to shut up, startling Carney into dropping his roll of gauze. She sighed internally. This was who was in charge of her right now? Well, she'd make do.

"Sorry about that sweetheart," she said, forcing herself to sound calmer than she felt. Now that she wasn't shouting, her words wanted to come out slurred, probably due to the meds. "He can be real ornery at times. If he gives ya'll any trouble, you just let me know, alright honey?" She smiled at Carney in a way she hoped was demure.

It seemed to have worked, because Carney quickly picked up the roll and resumed his task. "Uh, sure thing miss. These might feel a bit tight, but they'll uh, they'll uh... help." He stammered a bit as he bandaged his way across his shoulder down her chest. She watched his face as he worked his way towards her breasts, anger slowly simmering. He wasn't stammering because she surprised him, she realized, but because he was a goddam 14 year old inside an adult nurses body. She was no doctor, not by a long shot, but had helped stitch up her share of wounds, and was certain his hands were going places they need not be. She licked her lips, preparing to spit in his stupid, useless, good for nothing perverted-

"Carney!" A sharp voice caught her attention and she looked up to see a tall, severe looking red-headed woman enter her cubical. "Go help Jones in intake 3, they need an extra set of hands to set his shoulder."

"Oh! Uh, right, uh ok." Carney straightened up and left the roll on Ashe's stomach, bustling out of the cubical.

"And don't forget to change your gloves!" The woman barked at him as he hurried past. She peered around the corner of cubical to watch him, then reentered, shaking her head.

"I apologize for my incompetent staff," she said, picking up the gauze from Ashe's belly and back tracking up her shoulder. "If I were in charge of hiring, I would have had him shot when he entered the room for his interview." The woman deftly re-wrapped her upper arm, then paused, frowning. She glanced over her shoulder, then back down at Ashe.

"I'm going to undo your arm restraints to properly bandage your back and chest. In exchange for the excellent, free medical care you are receiving, I ask that you not attempt anything rash." Without waiting for a response, she unclipped Ashe's wrist cuffs. "Is it possible for you to sit up?" Ashe stared up at the woman, a bit nonplussed, taking her time to get a read on this new person. Thin and wiry, but with an air of confidence indicating she expected to be obeyed. She held power, but not physically. 

"You're trying to decide if you can overpower me and somehow escape this ward with half your flesh left in Arizona. Commendable spirit, but you would be unsuccessful. Now, up."

Ashe grinned. She liked her. "Sorry 'bout that mam," Ashe gingerly placed her right hand on the bed railing and attempted to sit forward, but pain shot through her. She managed to not cry out, but the doctor noticed. 

"Ah, don't strain. You'll cause more damage and waste more of my time. Here." The woman crossed to the other side of the bed and gently placed her hand on Ashe's back, helping her sit up. 

"Thank you, mam." Ashe muttered, trying to keep from wincing as the woman began to wrap her again. "Might I ask your name? A lil' small talk'll help keep me distracted from this hellfire on my body." 

"I am Doctor O'Deorain." No further reply came.

"Well, I'd say pleasure to meet you doctor, but I can't in good faith say I'm glad to be here." Ashe responded, straining to keep her voice steady. "My friends call me-"

"You're Elizabeth Caledonia, the infamous _Deadlock Rebel_ ," O'Deorain drawled, imitating Ashe's twang as she finished the wrap. "Now, Ms. Cale-"

" _Don't_ call me that." Ashe spat, turning to glare at the doctor. "As I was sayin', my friends call me Ashe," She paused, her eyes staring into the mismatched ones across from her, which were quickly narrowing at her harsh rebuke. Time to put some charm in. "And I'd call you my friend, stepping in and stopping' that fool from fondling my half-charred tits and wrappin' me up proper n' all." Not quite the charm she was going for, but it'd have to do. 

O'Deorain blinked, then stepped back. "Well, _Ashe_ , I can see why you carry the reputation you do. Now, as  _I_ was saying, lie back down. I'm going to finish your leg and take a history, then leave you in the hands of my incompetent staff while the commander figures out what to do with you." She paused. "Sans Carney, though. I've been looking for an excuse to get rid of him." She was quiet as she walked to grab more gauze. "I am sorry I did not step in sooner," she spoke softly from the foot of the bed, the bite of her previous statements gone. "We have security cams which we can review, and luckily we now know to look." She sighed. "Whatever laws you have broken, such should not occur in my ward," she finished with a growl.

Ashe grimaced. "Ain't the worst that's happened to me doc, and besides, you stepped in right as I was about to let him have it." She chuckled. "They would've just chalked up my spittin' in his eye to me bein' a rebel an' all, an' you wouldn't be able to get his ass outta here." Ashe leaned back and closed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion coming over her. 

"That is true," replied O'Deorain, starting the wrap at Ashe's ankle. "Again, I am sorry."

Ashe opened her eyes at the doctors touch, but closed them again, sleep calling her name. "Don't get worked up about it doc. Just promise me, if you can... fix up them mistakes, so they don't happen no more," Ashe's words began to trail off. "Don't go blaming yourself for the mistakes of another fool." She drifted off into her medication's slumber, and missed the small smile crossing the doctors face.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catharsis.

Moira smiled to herself, hearing her own words echoed to her from the feisty bandit. The girl was wiser than her years. She quickly finished her work, then drew a vial of blood to establish a baseline bloodwork. A final check on her vitals, and she exited the cubical, onto her next task.

Carney.

A fool of a man, who barely scraped by the interview process, probably only due to his lack of social and familial connections. Those types were easier to hire for Blackwatch. Easy to disappear if they got cocky, quicker to bond into the Blackwatch team, and simpler to encourage the particular brand of "hear no evil, speak no evil" employed by the commander. She understood the reasoning behind it, but hated it all the same. They hired those who were okay with twisting morality to their needs, to get the dirty jobs done and keep the peace. Unfortunately, it also meant they occasionally hired those who had no peace in their hearts. 

Ahead of her, her quarry and the head nurse, Jones, emerged from another cubical. "Jones!" They turned and met her gaze sharply. She liked Jones. They were a person who stood strong under her pressure, and had a quick wit outside the ward. "Take this to the lab, results for Ashe's file."

They quirked their eyebrow. "Ashe, mam?"

"Ah, Caledonia, intake 2." Moira's slip of the tongue surprised herself. Hadn't she just chided Reyes for going soft? Then again, the circumstances were similar. 

"Right away, mam."

"Thank you Jones. You did well today, with this unexpected rush. Take the evening once you're done." She rarely let her staff out early, but wanted the ward emptier for the coming storm. 

"Will do mam. Call if you need me." They turned and headed to the lab.

"Uh boss, want me to run the samples? I can-" Carney was cut off by Moira's piercing gaze.

"My office. Now." She turned on her heel and marched swiftly across the ward, Carney almost jogging to keep pace behind her. Ahead of her, Reyes was speaking softly with his team, looking like he was about to dismiss them. Good. As she passed them, she paused and spoke to him. "When you're done, clear them out and meet me in my office." He cocked his brow to her, and she tossed her head at Carney. He scowled. "Right behind you, doc."

She resumed her pace to her office and it's connected labs. She rarely brought her staff in here, preferring to meet with them in the common areas. She wanted them to understand that while she was strict, she strived for fairness in her treatment. She also wanted them to know that to be called to her office was something to be feared. Her office belonged to  _her_ , not Blackwatch. Blackwatch codes no longer applied - they were dealing with her personal code now.

"Sit." She gestured to the steel chair in front of her desk, seating herself behind it.

"Uh, boss, what's this ab-"

"Quiet." She brought up the security cam feeds on her monitor and had found the offending footage by the time Gabe entered, locking the door behind him.

"What's shakin' doc? Time for Carney's promotion?" Gabe chuckled and crossed behind her desk. Carney sat straighter in his chair and had the gall to look hopeful, missing his commanders jest. Gabe leaned over and watched the footage as Moira sat back, fingers steepled. His eyes narrowed as the video progressed, and he stood straight again as she paused it and gazed upward. "I stepped in before she could retaliate. She expressed to me that we deal with the matter." Gabe said nothing, thinking.

"Pull up his file." He requested after a moment. Moira obliged, and the commander swiped it from her screen to his tablet, scrolling through it as he lazily crossed the room and stopped to stand directly behind Carney.

"Tell me, son," Gabe tossed his tablet over Carney's shoulder onto the desk and grasped the back of his chair, making him twist to meet his gaze. "Why'd you join up?"

"Sorry, sir?" Carney swallowed.

"I said," Gabriels voice dropped to a growl, "Why did you join this organization?"

"Well, uh," Carney stammered. "I uh, wanted to make a difference? To help people?" He stared at his commander questioningly.

"A difference." Gabe straightened again, then crossed to sit on the edge of Moira's desk. She continued to watch, leaning back in her chair and peering over her long nails. "You wanted to make a difference... and to help people." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then grabbed his tablet again. "Says here you were reprimanded for inappropriate conduct that occurred during leave 4 months ago. This report is not signed by me, but by Sergeant... Foss. Care to elaborate?"

"Uh... elaborate on what, sir?"

"What was the conduct? Couldn't be that bad if it didn't make it to my desk, right? Speak up, son."

Carney swallowed. "Well, uh... Me and some of the boys went to a bar in town and I got in a fight, sir. That's it."

Moira scoffed, and Gabe shook his head.

"Son, my squads get in bar fights all the time. That's not enough for a reprimand, and you're the only one listed as being reprimanded. So clearly, that's not it."

Carney shifted in his seat. "I uh, dunno what to tell you sir. What happened should be there in the report."

Gabe chuckled again, then stood up. "You're right there, son. It is spelled out, in detail, in the report. Complainant and witness testimony. So now I wanna know two things. One - why you can't keep your goddam hands to yourself, and two - how in gods name someone as stupid as you can make it into my team. Lying when the reports in my fucking hands..." Gabe paused. "And another thing - why reports of reprimand for sexual assault aren't bumped up to me. Doc, pull up Foss's file." Moira typed away quickly and scanned the document. 

"Dead, killed in action two months ago." She reported. "Replaced by a Sergeant Killium." 

"Thank you doc. I'll review protocol with him, after I'm done here." Gabe stepped forward and placed his hands on the arms of Carney's chair, leaning into his personal space. Carney recoiled slightly. "So son, I've got a choice to make. But before I make my decision, I want to hear from your mouth what happened in the ward tonight in intake 2."

"Intake 2, sir? Well uh, Jones and I reset the shoulder and-" he was cut off with a sharp smack in the face from his commander.

"That's intake 3, Carney." Moira offered helpfully in response to the shocked look of confusion on Carney's face. "Report on your actions regarding Caledonia."

Carney swallowed again, but kept silent.

"Nothing to say, son?" Gabe had replaced his arms on the chair and loomed over his prey. Carney slowly shook his head. "Nothing at all?"

"No... sir." Carney looked away. Gabe straightened again.

"Sit up straight son. Arms on the rests." Carney looked up and slowly followed suit, knuckles turning white as he gripped the front of the arm rests. "I've reviewed the security footage from intake 2. It's pretty black and white. So, this is your last chance son - anything you want to say?"

Carney sat silently and stared forward, jaw clenched. Then he spoke. "Dumb bitch shouldn't have got herself blown up if she didn't want any hands on her. Besides, she's just gonna rot in the can anyway." Carney spat vehemently.

"There it is, then. Your input has been most helpful." Gabe paced slowly back and forth in front of the desk as he spoke, hands clasped behind him. "It's clear that previous reprimands have had no effect on your actions, and your conduct here has reinforced my opinion of you. You are hereby fired from this organization. No severance pay, and off-base transportation funds or moving funds will not be allotted. Because you are a barely competent physician, a grievance will be filed with the UN medical board, and you will lose your license." Gabe paused his pacing, again standing in front of Carney. "And because you can't seem to keep your hands to yourself... Well, this should help with that for a while." Before Carney could react, Gabe reared up and slammed his fists down onto Carney's hands, the sound of his bones being shattered muted by his gut-wrenching scream. Carney slumped forward, sobbing, but Gabe grabbed his face and pushed him back up in the chair.

"We keep tabs on everyone we kick out, kid. To make sure they don't get mouthy and the like. If I ever catch wind of shit like this from you again, I'll break more than your hands." He shoved him away, and the chair toppled backwards onto the floor, Carney pouring out of it and laying on the ground, whimpering. 

"What was the name of the Sergeant that replaced Foss, doc?"

"Killium. Looks like he just got back on base from a scouting mission." Moira skimmed her screen again, double checking the information. 

"Thanks. I'll meet with him and institute new reprimand protocol. Need any help cleaning up?" Gabe gestured over his shoulder to Carney.

"Send someone to escort him off base. I'll have Jones come stabilize him, but it won't take long. Thank you for your help, Commander."

"Anytime doc. I'll see you tomorrow morning for an update on the Rebels. And you, Carney." Gabe nudged him with his boot. "You better hope I never see you again." He turned and marched out of the office. 

Moira watched him go, then paged Jones to come back to the ward. "You're lucky he's letting you go," she spoke as she stood from her desk, shutting down her computer. "In the past, he has referred more severe cases to my lab. If agents cannot be trusted to the field, I get to test some of my... reconditioning work on them." Carney rolled over, fear on his face. "Get to intake 7. Crawl, if you have to. Or would you prefer we escort you out with your hands as they are?" Carney struggled to his feet, cradling his mutilated hands against his chest. 

Moira followed him back out into the ward as Jones and another agent entered. She gestured them to the cubical, but pulled Jones aside.

"Carney had a bit of an... accident while the Commander was informing him of his termination," Moira told them, speaking softly. "Do not record action taken to stabilize, standard protocol 22." Jones smiled faintly and shook their head. 

"If I had a dollar for every time you asked me to code 22 something that had to do with the Commander, I could retire early." Moira smiled back. This was one of the reasons she liked Jones. "Anything else to note?"

She shook her head. "Only that the bastard deserved it." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't sleep, so here's another chapter!
> 
> It felt really good writing the last one. A personal fantasy of mine made a bit more real.

Jesse had been fitfully dosing when he was woken by a loud bang from the far end of the ward. He lay still, willing his ears to catch more of what was happening. After a few moments, he heard the sound of footsteps and voices, accompanied by the sound of someone whimpering in pain. He glimpsed the guy that clocked him back in Arizona leaving the ward. Eventually the footsteps stopped, and he heard snippets of a conversation happening next to his cubical. Something about retiring early, and a bastard deserving it. More footsteps, one set sounding like they were walking away, and the other entering the cubical next to his. 

"Carney. Sit up." That was one of the people he heard talking earlier. He strained his ears and heard some shuffling and the sound of drawers opening and closing.

"Fuckin hell Jones, you aren't gonna give me anything for the pain?" A new voice, but familiar. Probably one of the nurses he heard when they were first brought in.

"Boss's orders were to stabilize only."

"Fuck you, fuckin' twink." Jesse heard... was that a gun cocking? Had to be. What the fuck was going on?

"Thank you Deshaies, but if he wants to get treated, he'll keep it civil." The first voice spoke, and the familiar voice sighed.

"Dunno how you can take orders like that from her. She and the commander are fuckin' nuts. He broke my fuckin' hands!"

"I can see that, and was told it was deserved. Now shut up, or I'm leaving you as is." The first voice was firm, and the talking ceased. Eventually he heard the sounds of a gurney creaking, then two sets of footsteps departing the ward. All else was silent, then footsteps approached his cubical. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

"I can tell you're awake from your vitals," the first voice spoke from the foot of his bed, and Jesse opened his eyes.

"You're good, doc. Name's McCree. The fuck was that about?" Jesse opened his eyes again and gazed at the person at the foot of his bed. They were tall and thin, with angular features, sharp eyes and hair pulled back into a topknot. Cute too, if he were in the market for someone new. 

They chuckled as they set his chart down on the holder at the foot of his bed and moved to adjust his saline drip. "You can call me Jones. I can't tell you specifics, other than it really isn't a good idea to piss off your commander."

"Heh, I'll agree with you there. My boss chewed me out earlier just fer talking' to ya'll." Jesse responded cheerfully. "Is your commander that Mexican fella with the creepy powers and mean right hook?"

Jones glanced at him sharply, then paused. It looked like they were choosing their words carefully. "How do you know he's Mexican?" 

"Well, after he spooked up behind me, he said 'surprise, cabrón!' then decked me real good. Guess he could be any kind of Spanish speaking' fella when you put it that way, though."

Jones laughed. "Yeah, that's the commander alright. From your chart, looks like he gave you a concussion. You'd do well to pretend that knocked any memory of what he did before he punched you out of your mind. Do you know if any of your comrades saw that as well?" They tacked on the question casually, but Jesse had a feeling it was important.

"Can't tell ya that, I dunno who else is here with me, or if anyone even saw it. Thought I was imaginin' it myself," he responded in kind, hoping his casual tone would illicit more information. "Why's it so bad I saw it?"

"Well, you're probably going to get some reconditioning done to make you forget it. Commander Reyes is a genetically enhanced, un-killable super solider. He's probably going to be handling your interrogation personally, so take my advice and don't piss him off." Jones leaned against a cabinet. "For all his bluster, he will treat you fairly, though."

"Thanks for the advice. That other fella musta really pissed him off then. Broken hands? And the way he came at you when you was fixin' him up? Fuck that." Jesse felt himself getting heated for his new acquaintance. 

Jones laughed again. "Thank you for your sympathy. With him gone though, my workplace atmosphere will be just about perfect. Overwatch is an inclusive organization; everyone else here easily respects my pronouns, and like I said, Reyes is a fair man."

"Pronouns? Aw shit, I hope I didn't fuck up?" Jesse racked his brain, trying to think if he used any in their short conversation.

"They/them, and you're fine. Thank you for caring though. Aren't you rebels supposed to be all rough and tumble?" Jones cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Rough n' tumble? Well, yeah, I guess we gotta helluva rap sheet, but we're a fuckin' family, first of all. Respect and loyalty are the number one rules. We take in anyone needing' a family, and you respect yer family no matter what pronouns they use." Jesse replied firmly.  

Jones chortled, a smile on their face. "Well McCree, it's a shame you came in the back door instead of the front. You'd fit in well here." They turned to leave. "Get some sleep. You'll probably meet with the commander in the morning. Goodnight."

Jesse nodded, and leaned into his pillows. "Thanks again, Jones. 'Night." He mulled their words over. He knew Overwatch's poster boy was a super solider, but he never heard anything about being spooky and un-killable. With the way Jones talked about the commander and the way their sting had been busted up, it seemed like he had been picked up by a different organization. But Jones had definitely said  _Overwatch_ was inclusive. And what did they mean by him "fitting in well"? Overwatch was made up of heroes and geniuses, not fucked up criminal orphans like him. 

He made to turn over in his bed, forgetting he was still cuffed, and sighed heavily. He willed his mind to quiet, to try and sleep. It was going to be a long night. 


	5. Chapter 5

Bob was frustrated. It had been 3 hours since he had activated his emergency distress beacon, and he was still stuck here. On the side of the road. With his body laying in pieces yards in front of him. Birds of prey had long since been flying in lazy circles above him and his motionless comrades, occasionally swooping down to attempt to feast on their lifeless bodies. He kept them at bay with inhuman screeches from his vocal modulators, each time almost a blessing as it gave him a chance to put his frustration to pitch.

Another raptor had just started it's descent when it suddenly veered off, deterred by another sound. A low rumble was approaching from down the road. Bob listened for a moment, and identified it as Lang's bike, followed by his usual crew. 

Great.

There had always been tension between Lang and Ashe. Lang's family had also been wealthy, and moved in the same circles as the Caledonias. Lang's family, however, had doted upon their eldest son, materially and emotionally. He had been given both the resources and the freedom to do whatever he pleased, and had decided to forego his massive inheritance for a life of excitement and crime. He had turned his back on a family that loved him, simply because he found them too boring. Ashe didn't trust him, but couldn't argue with the power wielded that came from wealth still bestowed upon him by a family desperate for his return. She was concerned he would abandon his new family when the going got rough, or didn't turn enough cash, or whatever reason he could find for displeasure. Unlike her, he had never known true pain in his life, and hadn't learned the harsh lessons it wrought. 

It seemed time for her concerns to be put to the test.

"What the fuck happened here?" Lang and crew stopped, dismounting and surveying the carnage with shock in their eyes. They spread out, and a gut-wrenching cry broke the silence.

"Travis!" Javi fell to his knees feet from Bob, sobbing at the sight of his lover's mangled body before him. He couldn't seem to bring himself to touch him, reaching out his hand but clenching it back to his face. Lang walked up to him and rested a reassuring hand on his quaking shoulder, then caught sight of Bob's head on the ground. 

"Well shit, Bob. Maybe you can tell us what happened."  He stopped to pick up Bob's head and tucked him unceremoniously under his arm. "Clean up who you can, and let's get back to base." As he watched his crew commence their grisly task, he swore under his breath. "Ashe really fucked up good this time."

\---

Moira walked quietly back to her small on-base apartment, lost in thought. The days events had left her weary, in need of a hot bath and a stiff drink.

As she entered her room, she saw her wall comm was blinking. She activated it to run her messages while she crossed to her liquor cabinet, one of the few pieces of additional furniture she had added to the sparse quarters. 

The messages were nothing of urgency, just a few updates from her lab staff regarding her samples, a request from Gabe's secretary to contact him when she had a moment, and a final one from Jones letting her know all the Rebels lab work was finished for her to review at lesiure. 

She snorted at Jones' choice of language in that last one. They knew she rarely took time for herself, preferring to work at almost every waking moment. Why waste time doing nothing but ruminating on life when it could be better spent unraveling the secrets of the universe? 

Their words echoing in the back of her mind, she perused her cabinet for tonight's drink. Something strong was warranted after the Carney fiasco, but not too strong. She had to get to her lab early tomorrow to make up for lost time there today. Her eyes settled on a port wine she had picked up on a whim in town a few months ago. Unopened, passed to the back in favor of the quicker, sharper burns of her various whiskeys. The thought of enjoying it while in the bath crossed her mind. Jones did say _leisure_...

She snagged the bottle and opened it in the kitchen while comming Gabe.

" _Reyes."_  He answered almost immediately despite the hour. 

"You said to contact you when I had a moment," she replied, twisting the cork out of the bottle. 

" _Right. I ran the procedure by Killium. Turns out assaults are supposed to be bumped up to me. Looks like Carney was greasing the wheels a bit."_

_"_ I'm not surprised, that man was slime. It is a good thing Foss is no longer in the picture."

_"My thoughts exactly. I'm requesting all department heads call a meeting to... remind their staff of the procedures."_

She sighed silently. More time wasted because others could not do their jobs. "Understood. Anything else?"

_"Yeah. Get the rebels out of the ward as soon as possible, we need to get them processed and off base asap. Our source says another ringleader got wind of the situation. Apparently Caledonia's bodyguard survived and updated them on events. They'll likely stage a rescue, and we can't risk them getting out."_

She poured her glass before responding. "Do you have a time frame? Caldeonia's injuries are severe."

_"Two days, three tops, is our best estimate. Depends on the kind of air transport they have available."_

She frowned at her glass. 3 days was not going to be enough time to grow the grafts needed, and no other base had the equipment to do so. Still, she replied. "I'll keep you updated."

_"Thanks doc. See you in the morning."_

"Goodnight." She ended the call and stood at the counter, thinking. 

There was no way Ashe was going anywhere in 3 days, even if her lackeys staged a doubtfully successful rescue. With injuries as severe as hers and the little skin she had left, moving her without grafts would be a death sentence, either from shock or infection. 

_Ashe._  Why did she keep referring to her as such? She scowled and marched to the bathroom, taking her port and her tablet with her. 

Once the water was run, Moira eased her long frame into the woefully short tub and pulled up the Rebels lab results on her tablet. She skimmed over the first three, nothing out of the ordinary, save for some elevated white counts the other woman's bloodwork. Probably a pre-existing issue, for it to be showing up that high in preliminary labs. She sent a message for the overnight staff to check for underlying infections, an order for a broad-course antibiotic, and an additional check on her vitals to ensure her earlier blood loss wasn't causing further problems. Finally, she got to Ashe- _Caledonia's_  results. A marker on her genetic analysis jumped out at her.

_"Marker indicates in-vitro treatment for unknown auto-immune condition."_  Moira pulled up the raw genetic data, and was surprised at what she found. 

During her time at university, Moira had developed many new treatments for several diseases by utilizing the body's own genetic code. It was how she gained her fame, and her notoriety. She recognized her work now, staring at her in the genes of the young woman lying her ward. 

She paged through the data, frowning. It appeared to be one of the earliest treatments she had developed, just a year or two into her schooling, and it showed. Bits of genetic information shuffled around clumsily, affecting non-essential and essential processes alike. Yes, it appeared the treatment was successful, but it would take two hands to name the side effects. 

Non-native eye coloration. Increased risk to inflammatory conditions. Faulty melanin production, leading to higher skin cancer risk and lessened follicle pigmentation. Increased risk of severe infection. High rates of transplant rejection-

"Shit." Moira cursed, tossing her tablet to the bathroom floor and rubbing her brow in frustration. Because of her past sloppy work, Moira had created a massive problem for herself now. Even if they _could_  grow the grafts needed in three days, Ashe's body would reject them. That, combined with her risk of infection and how she had sustained her injuries, it was a wonder she was as healthy as she was now. 

Wait.

She scrambled for her tablet again, sloshing water over the floor. Cursing, she quickly dried her hands and pulled up the other woman's bloodwork. The data didn't match the woman's described injuries - her red counts were too high for the blood loss logged. She pulled up Ashe's bloodwork for a side-by-side comparison, cursing again upon realizing that some fool had mixed up them up. She checked the time stamp on the results and felt the color leave her face.

Ashe was in serious danger. 


	6. Chapter 6

Moira was vaulting out of the bath, mind racing. If she could hurry, she could fix these mistakes, both hers and others. Of course, as Ashe had told her, she would not take the blame for whomever mixed up the bloodwork, no, but she was certainly going to clean up after them. Funny how that advice echoed through her head for a third time today.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her comm ringing. She answered it while frantically pulling on her previously discarded clothes, already anticipating what she would hear.

_"Doctor, Caledonia's blood-pressure and O2 levels have tanked, we think-"_

"Standard sepsis treatment, additional max dosage vitamin c, thiamine, and hydrocortisone, treat her as though she is immuno-compromised," she barked, dashing out the door.

_"Compromised? Mam, we don't even know what's going-"_

" _I_  know what's going on, now do as I say or you will soon be treating a corpse. I am on my way." She sprinted to the lifts, paging Jones to meet her at the ward.

As she burst through the doors, she was greeted by a space that was suspiciously quiet. She prowled to Ashe's cubical to find two of the night staff intubating her, ceasing their hushed conversation at her appearance. Ashe was paler than ever, and her monitors showed her heart rate and blood pressure were dangerously low.

"Did you push what I prescribed?" She stepped back to allow her staff more room to work. "Why isn't she stabilizing?"

"Mam, with her labs where they were when she was brought in, it can't be sepsis-" the nurse was cut off by Moira whipping around and dashing to the supplies storage. She wanted nothing more but to stop and strangle the fool, but knew that time wasted would kill Ashe. She collected what she needed and was running back across the ward as Jones entered, looking disheveled. She gestured for them to follow her.

"You two, out, you're fired. If you can't follow orders, you have no use here. Get out of my ward. Jones, finish intubating her and get circulation compresses going." She didn't even look at the two nurses as she shoved past them to Ashe's IV, quickly pushing the medications as Jones got to work.

"Fired? You can't be serious," protested one, as the other stared, dumbfounded. 

"You heard her, out!" Jones glared at the two, unceremoniously bumping into them and taking over the work. They exchanged a dark look, then finally walked out.

"What's going on Boss?" They quickly taped the final assembly in place and began wrapping Ashe's good arm in a compress.

"Her labs indicated she recieved one of my early genetic treatments for an auto-immune disorder. It appears she has sustained an infection from her wounds, and my treatment has left her vulnerable. She is in septic shock, and if we do not get her stabilized soon, she will be dead by morning." Moira moved to start a compress on Ashe's left side, but stopped as she remembered her burns. As she circled back to the other side of the bed trying to think of the next thing to do, a sharp, sustained tone pierced her thoughts.

"She's crashing boss, starting compressions." Jones dropped the gurney flat and began manually pumping Ashe's heart for her, looking up at Moira as they did so. "I've never seen something like this. We need help... boss," they panted, already out of breath.

Moira nodded and picked up her comm, calling Dr. Ziegler. Gabe was going to give her hell for bringing her down to Blackwatch's territory, but she could think of no other option.

 _"Doctor O'Deorain?"_ Ziegler answered blessedly fast despite the late hour.

"Ziegler, we need you down in the Blackwatch ward. Bring your caduceus tech." Moira struggled to keep her voice level.

_"What? Right now? I'm terribly sorry but-"_

"Yes, right now. I don't care what Morrison says, if you don't get down here I'm going to have a patient die!" Moira spat, control slipping.

" _You misunderstand me doctor, I would come if I could but I am at the Swiss-"_ She was cut off by Moira slamming her comm down on the tray table next to her, toppling it. Jones startled, but kept up their compressions. Moira stared at them blankly, chest heaving almost as much as theirs, disjointed thoughts dancing in her head. _If she dies, it's my fault, I was sloppy, I didn't think to check-_

"Your... field harness." Jones spoke up.

"What?" Moira looked at them, confused.

"Use your... field harness. It's the same... nanotech... as Zeiglers... right?"

"Yes, but it needs negative nano-biotics to produce a charge," Moira racked her brain, trying to find a solution. "I don't have enough live samples in my lab to charge the system appropriately." That was never a problem in the field, with enough enemies to keep her flush. Here in the ward... that was another story.

"You have... us..." Jones stared at her directly, plaintively. Moira stared back astonished, then nodded. She ran to her office, tumbling through the doors into her labs. She grabbed her harness and made to turn back, then paused. Quickly propping it on her work bench, she made a few modifications, then headed back through her office to the ward, strapping it across her body as she went.

"Stand aside." Jones quickly leapt out of the way as her harness powered up.

"Which of us-" they stopped speaking as a golden mist streamed from Moira's palm onto Ashe's prone form. Moira grimaced in pain, teeth clenching, until finally, the harsh tone of Ashe's heart monitor cut out, then resumed a steady beep. She dropped her arm and realized the rest of her was dropping too, her descent slowed by Jones quickly grabbing her and cushioning her fall.

"What... the fuck boss." Jones was still out of breath as they slumped on the floor with her, leaning against the foot of the gurney. "What did you do?"

Moira did not immediately reply. "Help me out of this," she leaned forward and allowed Jones to lift her harness off her back as she undid the clasps and slipped her arms through. "Thank you." She cradled her right arm to her chest, not wanting to look at it. "I removed the fail-safe preventing it from drawing charge from the user. It pulled from my body... from my arm, it feels like." She clenched her eyes as her limb throbbed.

Jones said nothing for a few moments, then made a request. "Show me your arm." Moira obliged, opening her own eyes to survey the damage as she did so.

Her arm was deathly pale, more so than Ashe was minutes earlier. Grey streaking appeared along her flesh. She tried to flex her fingers, but fiery pain coursed up to her shoulder. It felt like nerve damage, and she didn't try again.

"May I?" Jones reached up to touch her hand, and Moira nodded. She tried to suppress the small cry that escaped her as she saw, but not felt, their fingers grasp her palm. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you," they responded, looking at her with sad eyes. "I can-"

"No. I... I can't feel your hand. But I am feeling pain throughout my arm. I will... I will have to study it." She took her arm back and placed it against her chest again, doing her best to ignore the stabbing and throbbing. "What's her status?" She nodded to Ashe, carefully making to stand. Jones helped her up, and they moved to either side of the gurney, Moira scanning the vitals screen. "Her oxygen appears stable, see if-"

"Boss. She's awake." Jones quickly began to remove her breathing tube as Moira looked down, meeting Ashe's bright red eyes. They didn't break their gaze until Jones began to pull the last of the tube up, and Ashe coughed and gagged. Once free of the restriction and after her coughing fit passed, she returned her gaze to Moira's shocked face.

"'Evenin' doc," she coughed again, grimacing. "What in the almighty hell happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a panel from a comic that came out when Moira was released, showing her and Gabe. Gabe's all spooky and misty, and she's resting her hand on his shoulder. What's piqued my interest in this scene is that while her hand is damaged, it is not the full blown purple corpse arm we see in her older skins. Additionally, there is a spray of her called "self-experimentation" where she is sitting, grasping her now-corpsey arm in pain. I head-canon that the damage to her arm was progressive, and this chapter nicely works out to explain the original insult to it.


End file.
